


I Can Smell the Sea

by Rynn336



Series: Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic [8]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, Frontotemporal Dementia, Hospice Care, M/M, Sad, dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7762030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynn336/pseuds/Rynn336
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both doomed in their own ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Smell the Sea

_Where did you go?_

_How will you find yourself when your hand to hold is letting go?_

Hajime’s phone vibrates in Nagito’s hand.

Nagito stares at it numbly, watching it dance around on his flat, trembling palm. His hand kind of hurts from holding this position, his fingers stretched out as far as they’ll go, palm upwards and parallel to the ground. It would be so much easier to just close his fist around the phone, to tuck it in his pocket or set it down on the nightstand.

The name _Jin Kirigiri_ glares at him in harsh lettering from the screen. He glares back.

The device vibrates to the edge of his hand and tumbles off, landing with a soft thud on his thigh. He picks it up and answers it, flexing his hand uncomfortably. “H’lo?” he says.

There’s a pause on the other end. “Who is this?”

“Haj’may.” He grits his teeth in frustration. His tongue and lips refuse to form the name like he wants to.

“…Please put the real Hinata on the phone for me, if you would.”

Nagito closes his eyes. Maybe if he waits Kirigiri will think he’s given the phone to Hajime.

The chair beside the hospice bed creaks quietly and the phone is slowly eased out of his hand. He stays like he is until Hajime’s voice says, “Hello? This is Hinata.”

Nagito blinks at him as his yellowish-brownish-greenish-whateverish eyes – mental descriptions help calm Nagito down – gaze out the window, the pale gossamer curtains swaying in the breeze and the trees outside gleaming green in the sun.

Surprise. Then horror. Then resignation. Then, finally, “I understand. I…” but the line has already gone silent.

 

They’ve been plunged into one of the great trenches on the ocean floor, rocks and sea life tearing at their skin, their eyes, their minds, and they find themselves inhaling dust and water whenever they breathe. The sparkling sunlight of the surface is long gone, surrendering finally to the darkness that engulfs the inhabitants of the depths of the sea. As they are each devoured individually by the abyss, they often find, with varying degrees of clarity, that they have lost sight of each other, and that their vision is fading, stealing away what little means they had left to battle the current dashing them against the rocks in its determination to pull them even deeper.

 

“What’d he want?” Nagito asks.

Hajime shrugs.

“Tell me.”

“He…” Hajime sighs. “He was scheduling the date for the surgery.”

Nagito swallows hard but nods. There is nothing he can do now; they’re in too deep. “When?” Shorter sentences are easier.

“A week from now.”

“Soon,” he remarks, but the “n” is cut short when he finds he’s forgotten to inhale for the last half a minute or so. He sucks in a lungful of air, and exhales it with a whoosh.

“Yeah. Very soon.”

They’re quiet for a long time.

“I l…” Nagito frowns. What’s the word? It seems like an important one.

“Hm?” Hajime watches him, his gaze soft and sad, filled with quiet acceptance, like that of one forced to watch the world disintegrate beneath his feet.

It’s a word he doesn’t say often enough. He’s forgotten it. “I dunno,” he says, his brow furrowed in frustration.

Hajime waits a moment, then smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to Nagito’s forehead. “I love you,” he says.

That’s it! “I lo…” But even as he tries to say it back, the words slip from his tongue like dew from a leaf. He reaches his hand out to catch them before they fall too far away, but he can feel them splatter against his fingertips. “What is it ’gain?”

“Love,” Hajime says patiently.

“Love,” Nagito barks out, afraid it will leave him again.

“You.”

“You.” He grins. “I…” When he reaches for them, he finds them gone once again. When he catches the pained look in Hajime’s eyes, Hajime blinks and sits up straight, his expression becoming guarded. Nagito sighs. “I’ll get it.”

“I know you will.”

“Before I die, I’ll get it.”

“I know, Nagito.”

“I promise.”

 

Lists written in sharp blue ink cover Nagito’s hands and arms. Some seem random – for example, one reads, _Eyelash. Blue. Plaster. Stucco? Left. Down. Plaster. –_ but one that Nagito loves to glance at just before he falls asleep is one detailing (in as much coherence as his demented mind could muster) every moment of his life that has been fulfilling. There are four items on the list.

 

  1. Hope’s Peak.
  2. Hajime’s…L?
  3. His house
  4. I call him



 

He doubts Hajime could read it, any of it, even if he tried. The handwriting is shaky, atrocious, like a kindergartener learning his letters for the first time.

He chose the blue ink because it smells like saltwater. Everything does.

**Author's Note:**

> This was hard to write, and I'm so sorry that it's so short.  
> If you can't tell, I'm really, really close to the end. This was the second to last story in this series, so bring some tissues to the next update.  
> I don't know if I'm doing the subject matter justice, but I tried my best.  
> As always, please let me know what you thought in the comments! If there's anything you liked, or that you thought that I could've done better, please tell me!  
> Also, please note: I am aware that this is deviating hugely from canon, and likely even farther than I imagined, because I'm trying to avoid the new anime so I won't try to alter my portrayal of the story I have in mind.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I'm so grateful to all of you!


End file.
